


All The Things I've Said

by ProblemWithTrouble



Series: Pacific Rim [13]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Newt. Is. A. Dummy.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProblemWithTrouble/pseuds/ProblemWithTrouble
Summary: This was inspired by my deep love of pop punk and specifically the song 18 by Anarbor.If long hair and tattoos are what attract youBaby, then you’re in luckAnd I know it’s just a phaseYou’re not in love with meYou wanna piss off your parents, babyPiss off your parentsThat’s alright with me





	All The Things I've Said

Newt knew he could be “a bit much.” His father and uncle had said it to him enough growing up when they ruffled his hair and tried to make whatever he was doing a little safer. (Whether that was an engine he was trying to attach to his tricycle at five; or trying to make his own fireworks for his dad’s birthday when he was thirteen.) He’d heard it from his mother when he interrupted her practice and his teachers when they were trying to contain his intelligence into something they could focus. So, he was “a bit much” for people, it wasn’t his problem. 

What was a problem for him was that sometimes that muchness backfired. Sometimes, the brightness of his mind ran away with the emotions in his heart and he’d find himself falling in love at even the slightest of attention or affection. 

When he got the first letter from Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, he knew he was a goner almost immediately. The letters were on actual stationary that Newt would reread over and over while he waited for a response from Hermann. Hermann’s mind was brilliant, he never slowed down or pulled punches when they talked about their work. His letters were smooth and concise in a way that Newt knew he could never be, but Hermann never judged Newt’s tangents or noted that he was wondering how Newt had been about to link that one time he’d gotten lost in the woods behind his house as a kid with whether or not kaiju could digest any of the food on Earth. He took it all in stride, and sometimes, if Newt was lucky, would include some anecdote about his own life and relate it to Newt’s story or his own new theory. 

Then he got the picture of Hermann after he had sent his own polaroid in the last letter and Newt thought his heart skipped more than just a single beat. There was almost no trace of what Hermann looked like on the internet. Newt had spent hours searching, there were a few blurry family pictures from Facebook that were almost all behind privacy settings, and Newt wasn’t quite ready to friend what he suspected were Hermann’s siblings on Facebook. Even that level of muchness was beyond him. 

When they set the meeting to finally see each other in person Newt was over the moon. He planned his outfit three different times. Black boots or converse or sneakers? Black skinny jeans, black corduroys, or red skinny jeans? A white button up or a black button up or a t-shirt? He went back and forth on the tie more times than he could count. He even bought new socks so that he would have a matching pair in case things went the way he wanted them to.

And then they did. They went exactly how Newt wanted them to. They talked for three hours in a café; their barbs sharp but avoiding anywhere that would actually sting. They were critical of each other’s work and Hermann made a comment about his boots, black jeans, and tattoos that were peeking out from where Newt had rolled up his sleeves. They were hardly professional for a conference or a meeting with a college, Hermann had critiqued. Newt had shot back that they were hardly on a professional lunch date and the following blush had been oh so pretty. 

They ended up in Newt’s hotel room because it was just upstairs from the restaurant they were in, and for a while Newt had everything he wanted. Hermann looked at him like he had hung the moon, he smiled easily and laughed at all Newt’s jokes and attempts to break the tension whenever it became too much and the words “I love you” got too close to slipping out. 

After, Hermann was curled up against Newt’s side, tracing the tattoos on his chest as Newt ran his fingers through Hermann’s hair. Afterglow with the person he was head over heels for was great. 

“I love you,” he said, so quietly Newt almost didn’t hear him. 

Newt panicked. And then Newt laughed. 

Hermann pulled back like Newt’s body was on fire and the blush that had been so cute was getting deeper as he scowled. Fuck, he was even cute when he was angry. “Is something funny, Newton?”

“Oh, come on. You don’t love me.”

Hermann blinked at him twice and then turned away and started searching for his clothes from where he was perched on the edge of the bed, facing away from Newt. 

“Oh, come on,” Newt said, brushing his fingers up the pretty back presented to him. 

Hermann shied away. “And what makes you such an expert as to my emotions; more so than even myself?” 

Newt pulled his hand back and folded his hands behind his head, cocked to the side, genuinely confused. “You just want to make your dickhole dad mad, and that’s fine, dude. If the tattoos and punk bands are what gets you going awesome, it obviously worked out for me. But let’s be real, you just want to scare your dad, show him you’re not him. You don’t love me, I’m just the most convenient way to get the point across.” Newt shrugged and pretended his heart wasn’t breaking. He had known the score going in, he didn’t get to be upset now. He knew Hermann and Hermann didn’t want a loud, obnoxious, proud, flamboyant, punk rock boyfriend. 

By the time that Newt had finished his monologue Hermann had his pants back on and his shirt half buttoned. “Since you are such an expert, I don’t think I need to stick around.” 

“Oh, come on, Hermann. You don’t need to be mad, just be real.”

Hermann pulled the sweater vest over his head. “Goodbye, Dr. Geiszler.” He picked up his jacket from the floor with his cane as he walked out the door. 

Newt looked at the ceiling as the door clicked shut. “Fuck.”

* * *

Years later Newt and Hermann were thrown into a lab together. They fought like rabid animals for the first few weeks, as it turned out neither of them was over the day they had met, even if they were mad for different reasons. After the six-month mark things mellowed out into something much more productive, even if it was just as loud as before. 

Neither of them ever brought up what had happened between them. What would there to have bring up anyway? Hey, sorry I totally laughed in your face when you told me you loved me because I was an insecure shit? Oh, it’s okay you were totally right, and I should have known going into the situation what my true feelings were before I tossed them at you that way? Yeah, fat chance of that happening. 

Then there were years together when they were all each other had besides tense and reassuring phone calls to family members. It never did anyone any good to tell their families just how bad it was going; just how close they were to the end. People knew, but they didn’t _know_. 

There were more than a few late-night conversations on the lab couch that Newt held close to his heart because maybe he was still a little in love with Hermann. Maybe he had gotten a little stuck on the sweater-vest wearing nerd. It wasn’t his fault. Anyone who looked at Hermann’s perfect face and understood the brilliance behind what he said would have fallen in love and never gotten back up. Some days Newt wasn’t sure he wanted to get over it. 

Then there was the Drift. The Drift and saving the world and…nothing changed. Absolutely nothing changed. For the first few days after the Drift it was hard to tell where one person started and the other ended, but it didn’t matter because it faded. 

The Drift had offered absolutely zero insight into how Hermann felt about Newt. Like maybe there was still a spark. Like maybe Newt had been wrong the whole time and Hermann had always loved him as deeply as Newt had loved him. No dice. All he got from the Drift was an even deeper hatred of Lars and a distaste for floral teas.

But then Hermann decided to change it. Hermann who was braver than anyone ever gave him credit for, came to Newt’s door after dinner one night and, when Newt answered the door in a pair of sweats and a half-zipped hoodie, asked to come in. 

“Sure,” Newt said, moving out of the way, gesturing at the desk chair for Hermann to sit. 

“Thank you.” Hermann turned the chair around so that he could face the bed where Newt had sat on the edge. 

“What’s up?”

Hermann took a deep breath. “Do you remember our afternoon in Stockholm, the day we met?” 

“Uh, yeah. What’s up, Herms?”

“I told you I loved you.”

“Sure did.”

“And you laughed at me,” Hermann finished. 

“Only a little.”

“There were some…impressions in the drift that you may have been more upset by that than previously assumed by me, given that _you_ are the one who laughed at _me_ ,” Hermann said. It sounded the way it did when he had practiced a speech a few too many times; a little stale. “Did you truly think that I was only using you for your ability to anger my father?”

“Not only. I’m really good at my job. Like, I saved the world, dude. So, you wanted me for that too.” Newt gave him a big smile and a laugh. He really wished Hermann would cut to the chase because he wasn’t sure where this was headed.

Hermann was quiet for a moment. “Was there a short coming in what I said? Was I not clear or sincere enough? It would not be the first time that accusation has been thrown at me,” Hermann said. Newt knew it was true. He’d listened to a lot of people call Hermann an emotionless robot more times than he cared to count. 

“Nah, dude. But I know you and you didn’t want me for real then any more than you do now,” Newt said with a shrug. 

Hermann’s laugh was almost a snort. “That is true, but I feel that it’s true for reasons you’re not quite understanding.” Hermann let that sink in for a second. 

“Holy shit! For real? Still?” His head felt light. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was having another seizure. There was no way this was actually happening.

“Not still. You burned my affection for you to the ground quite effectively that day in Stockholm. You just happen to have also built that affection back up since our working together.”

Newt scooted down the bed so that their knees were just short of brushing. “That makes sense. I mean I’ve been in love with you the whole time, so I totally won,” Newt said with a grin.

“Won what exactly?”

“The cuteness factor when we tell this story to other people, duh.” 

Hermann rolled his eyes. “Newton. Please be serious.”

“I’m being dead serious. When people ask us how we got together my part of the story will be way cuter than yours.” Newt was practically vibrating from the effort not to lunge at Hermann right then. He had saved the world and now Hermann Gottlieb was his boyfriend.

Hermann tried to disguise his laugh as a sigh, but Newt saw right through it. “If you say so. Does that mean you’re interested in a relationship with me?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Newt scooted back on the bed a bit and reclined onto his palms. “You want to make out in my bed?” 

Hermann rolled his eyes and shook his head even as he stood up and moved to lay down next to Newt. “You’re a fool.”

“Yeah, but I’m your fool.”

**Author's Note:**

> 18 by Anarbor is an excellent song. It mostly makes me think of straight girls that flirt with wlw but sometimes I think of Newmann.


End file.
